清明節

For Qingming, the capital ordinarily counts the hundred-and-fifth day after the winter solstice as the Great Cold Food; the day before it is called “cooking day.” People make jujube cakes and flying swallows out of flour, thread them on willow twigs and stick them above the door lintel, calling them “Zitui swallows.” Girls who have reached the age for the hairpin often have their hair put up on this day. The third day of Cold Food is Qingming itself. All new graves are visited and swept on this day, and the people of the capital go out to the suburbs. Half a month earlier the palace dispatches court ladies in carriages to the imperial tombs; the southern-branch clansmen and close relatives of the imperial house are likewise sent in turn to sacrifice at the various tombs, their attendants all in purple jackets, white silk three-cornered caps and blue leg wrappings, all issued by the government. On the festival day the palace also sends out carriages to the Fengxian Temple and the Daoists’ courts to sacrifice at the graves of palace women — every one of them gold-fitted, with dark-blue carriage curtains, brocade fringes and pearl blinds, double embroidered fans, and gauze lanterns leading the way. Townspeople and officials crowd the gates. The paper-horse shops all stack paper in the form of towers and pavilions in the street.

The open country is like a market. Everywhere, beneath the fragrant trees or in the gardens, people set out cups and platters and press wine on one another. The singers and dancing girls of the capital fill every garden and pavilion and return only at dusk. Each carries jujube cakes, steamed buns, yellow dolls, swords for play, famous flowers and rare fruit, toy mountain pavilions, duck eggs and chicks, which are called “local gifts from outside the gate.” The sedan chairs are piled over the top with willow and mixed flowers, hung down on all four sides as a screen. For three days from then on everyone goes out of the city to visit graves, but the hundred-and-fifth day is the busiest. On the festival day the markets sell thick malt syrup, wheat cake, milk curd and milk cake. Slowly they re-enter the city gates, willow trailing slantwise along the imperial road; drunk, they return to their courtyards under a bright moon and pear blossom. The imperial guards and other troops each form into ranks, riding and playing music, fanning out in every direction in what is called “throwing feet” (a slang term for riding hard). Their banners are bright, their bearing mighty, the men and horses sharp — another sight altogether.